The Entrance Ceremony (3)
The entrance hall of Arbel Academy had been attacked.
The attacker was a lesser dragon—a drake. It was the sort of monster a lord could only bring down by sending his army in person, or that the Adventurers' Guild could only fell by scattering a full-scale subjugation request across the land. One wrong move and the whole thing could erupt into catastrophe. The situation hung on a knife's edge.
And yet, astonishingly, the drake had been slain.
Not by the faculty. By the hands of the incoming students themselves.
"What? What is even happening right now?"
"The drake's dead? The students killed it?"
"Waaaaah! We're saved!!"
The students who had been rigid with terror wore blank, stunned faces. Their eyes flicked from the drake's corpse to the top-ranked students and back again, and little by little the situation sank in. One after another they let out sighs of relief and sent up cheers toward the students at the top—though the ones being cheered barely spared the rest of the student body a glance.
"Haaah. I really thought I was dead."
"Large monsters really are something else. One slip and we'd all have been wiped out, huh?"
"When it went after the Holy Faculty kids just now, I thought my heart was going to drop out of my chest."
Along the eastern wall the drake had smashed through, the top students were resting in their own ways and talking among themselves. The topic, of course, was the battle that had just ended. Fighting a large monster for the first time in their lives had left them with a great deal to feel.
"Just the lot of us? We wouldn't have stood a chance, right?"
"Goes without saying. We only played support. All the real damage came from over there."
And there was one truth they felt more keenly than any other: set beside genuine geniuses, they were frogs in a well.
The students kept stealing glances toward the drake's corpse. Gathered there were the stars of this battle, the geniuses who already carried epithets.
"How is the body, Iron Blood? You took quite a few heavy blows, didn't you?"
"I'm fine. If anything, I'm more worried about your mana exhaustion."
"It was close, but I'm all right now."
One man sat tending a thick steel shield. The other ran his hands over the drake's carcass, eyes bright with interest. They were the skilled fighters known respectively as Iron Blood and Morning Star—or, in more formal terms, the scion of the Northern Grand Duke's house and the disciple of the Magic Tower Lord.
"Everyone worked hard. No one's hurt, are they?"
"Ah. The commander of the battlefield has deigned to join us."
"...Call me by my name, not the epithet. I do have a name. It's Ludwig."
The commander who had gone to check on the other students joined them as well—the young lord of House Eschborn. With that, every leading figure of the battlefield was gathered, save for exactly one. Naturally the students' gazes converged on them, and the three let those stares slide off with practiced ease. They had been used to looks like these long before they ever enrolled at the Academy.
"Your voice was booming out there. Have you learned a sound-amplification spell?"
"If you're going to command a battlefield, your voice has to carry."
"Your swordsmanship has improved a great deal since our last spar. Fitting for the Sword Faculty's second seat."
"Haha, thank you. Victor and Mikhail were impressive too."
Iron Blood Victor, Morning Star Mikhail, and Commander Ludwig talked beside the drake's carcass. To a casual eye it might have looked like a pleasant chat over tea. The catch was that, only moments ago, they had been fighting for their lives.
"Where did the Golden Lion go?"
"Now that you mention it, I don't see the Golden Lion. Normally she'd have shown up by now to boast."
The conversation turned, naturally, to the one woman who wasn't there: the top seat of the Academy's Sword Faculty, and the woman who had played the greatest role in bringing the drake down. Lady Sylvia of House Fiorenza was nowhere beside them, nor anywhere among the top students. Ludwig, who seemed to know something of it, pointed west and spoke.
"She said she was going to find the sword's owner, and headed west."
"The sword? You mean the one that came flying in at the end of the fight?"
At Ludwig's words, Victor and Mikhail looked to the same place: the drake's severed head. Its right eye had burst completely, blood still trickling down, and until a short while ago an iron sword had been buried in that very spot. The sword that had, for all practical purposes, ended the drake's life.
"Whew. It was stupidly fast. It wasn't even coming at me, and it still gave me the chills."
"The trajectory bent midway. I've never seen control like that in my life."
Just as the drake broke their formation and went for a student of the Holy Faculty, a sword had come flying in from the west. Faster than most arrows—and, more than that, it had changed course once in midair. An ambush no one had seen coming. The drake took a mortal wound from that strike, and while it could no longer hold itself together, Sylvia's blade cut through and took its head.
"Just who on earth was that?"
"I don't know either. No one I know could pull off a feat like that."
"If it had been an arrow, it wouldn't have been quite so shocking. But a sword came flying in, and I can't even begin to guess."
An arrow is thin and light. A little mana is enough to get it moving fast, and steering it through the air isn't as hard as one might think. A sword is different. Large and heavy, never made to be thrown, it is exceedingly difficult to control once it leaves the hand. And yet some unknown eccentric had done exactly that.
"Oh? The Golden Lion's coming this way."
"Sylvia's back? Did you find the sword's owner?"
They were still speculating about the mysterious figure when Sylvia appeared in the distance, coming toward them. Her face was twisted in a scowl, and every step landed with a heavy thud. Anyone could tell she hadn't found her target, and Ludwig immediately regretted asking without thinking.
"Get lost. Before I cut you to pieces."
"...Got it. Rest easy."
As expected, Ludwig got nothing but abuse for his trouble. Sylvia ignored the three of them completely, walked a short distance away, righted a fallen chair, and sat. Had she given up the search? The thought flickered through them for a moment, but her next action made it clear that wasn't the case. Even seated, she kept turning the sword over in her hands, examining the lingering traces of mana left on the blade.
"Why is she hunting for them that hard? Is it the sword of some mortal enemy?"
"If you ask me, she thinks someone stole the moment that should have been hers."
"...If it's Sylvia, that would be exactly like her. And then some."
What kind of woman was Sylvia? A woman obsessed with being the best, and with being perfect in every fight. And someone else had landed the killing blow on the drake in her place? Worse, that someone hadn't even shown their face. With Sylvia's temperament, there was no chance she would let it go.
"Whoever they are, I hope they keep dodging her."
"I'm starting to worry this is going to turn into a real disaster."
"..."
In their hearts, the three offered their condolences to the unknown expert. Sylvia in that state would never give up. She would keep hunting them. And if the person in question was ever caught... they would probably be beaten to powder. That was the three's prediction.
A sudden, unplaceable chill ran through me, and my nose itched. What was this? Was someone, somewhere, talking about me? If so, who it was went without saying. Sylvia, that crazy bitch. Obviously. She was probably tearing into me with every curse she knew—biting, ripping, and tasting the whole menu.
Crazy woman. Why the hell are you looking for me?
A little while ago, Sylvia had nearly caught me. While everyone else was resting after the drake's subjugation, she had come charging west with the sword I'd thrown, closing in fast. She obviously hadn't come for a stroll. She was looking for the sword's owner. That much was certain.
If I'd been a second slower getting out of there, I'd have been screwed.
By a miracle of good luck, I had predicted exactly that and moved first. The moment I threw the sword, I shifted south and managed to melt into the crowd. Sylvia scoured the western wall from top to bottom, failed to find me, and went back to where she'd started. Only then did I let out a breath of relief and allow the tension to drain.
Lucy was saved, and I dodged Sylvia. Now I just have to wait until the entrance ceremony actually ends.
As I'd said before, the attack on this entrance ceremony was the mother of all fake-outs. The attack itself had been an event prepared by the Academy, and the drake that had been rampaging until moments ago hadn't even been a real drake. In truth, that drake was an elaborate illusion created by Headmaster Gustav.
An illusion that smashes walls and deals real wounds? Does that even make sense?
Honestly, watching it had left me speechless the whole time. Every movement of the drake had been bursting with life, and its actual combat power had been tremendous. Even knowing it was an illusion, I'd found it chilling. There was no need to ask how the ordinary students must have felt. Terrified enough to want to collapse on the spot and cry, no doubt.
That crusty old fossil, I swear.
I clicked my tongue inwardly. Arbel Academy existed to forge heroes, sure, but even so, hadn't they gone a bit far with the scare tactics? Even if he was controlling it himself and there was no real risk of anyone getting hurt, using something as monstrous as a drake for the show had been excessive.
He hands out rewards, so I'll let it slide.
If he'd just sent everyone back to the dorms like this, I would have genuinely wanted to put him in the ground. Whether I should call it fortunate or not, Headmaster Gustav was the sort of man who made sure effort was paid for, and paid well. Lucy, who had poured herself into heals and buffs, would get a proper reward too. And since she had nearly been eaten and felt genuine, crushing terror, his personality would have him tossing her something extra out of guilt alone.
"Should be about time..."
"Time for what?"
"Ghk—?!"
I was idly thinking along those lines, watching for when Gustav would appear, when a whisper suddenly brushed my ear. I turned my head, and Estelle was standing there. Only then did I remember that she had been stuck to me throughout the entire subjugation, and it began to sink in what I had just done in front of the mastermind.
I think I just screwed myself.
Estelle was the hidden hand behind it all. She aimed to overturn the Academy, and she watched talented students with suspicion, looking for chances to remove them. And what I had just shown was, unmistakably, something special. At this rate, my chances of earning the carriage, the terrace, and the black tea had just climbed a full hundred percent.
"That was truly impressive just now. It's been a long time since I've seen telekinesis that fast and that precise."
???
Then, out of nowhere, Estelle said something strange. Telekinesis? What was she talking about? I spun my thoughts quickly and caught what she meant.
Right. Estelle was in the Administration Faculty.
The Academy was an academy for heroes, yes, but that didn't mean it only trained swordsmen and mages. It also taught administration, for civil officials, merchants, and lords. Of course, they made up less than ten percent of the student body, so I had completely forgotten they existed.
Then... is there hope?
Estelle couldn't tell swordsmanship from magic. She'd seen only what was in front of her and mistaken me for a mage. If so, she would have a hard time tracking me down later.
"If you don't mind, could you tell me your name?"
"It's Hans, Your Highness."
The moment my thoughts reached that far, I spat out the alias. My name was Philip, and yet somehow it felt like I introduced myself as Hans more often than not.